


Knocks and Consent(?), In Which Optimus Is an Author in Heat and Everyone Wants To Help

by Prime627



Category: Transformers
Genre: Everyone rapes Optimus because of his heat cycle, He's irresistible, Heat Cycles, I wanna frag him now, Literally everyone/Optimus, Multi, Optimus being an author, Questionable Consent, This is why fics are not supposed to be born in showers, i don't even know what i'm doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prime627/pseuds/Prime627
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus is trying to write a story about his real experiences using a fictional character. The only problem is that his heat cycle is getting in the way and everyone is just a little too eager to help him. He can barely get a protest in before they go about helping him. Good news is, he's not going to get bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Optimus/Arcee

**Author's Note:**

> I had a presentation about the Army twice the other day and they were talking about Jump Masters and all I could see was Prime jumping out of that plane in ROTF, but I also wanted to make a fic of Optimus getting "helped" by Team Prime, so I smashed them together. It will eventually have more chapters. At this moment (as of 3/12/16) I am working on Optimus/Bulkhead.

_Three lunar cycles in the Academy prepared him for drops, rolls, heights of around two hundred feet, and the Waddle, but now that he was actually here, he was swallowing hard, though his mouth had gone dry hours before. In front of him was a mech checking his equipment, tugging and pulling on the straps and cables connecting him to his gear and weapons, including his parachute, which if it was not strapped carefully and correctly, the mech would have "a very bad day"._

_The Jump Master in front of the gathered mechs started moving his servos, cupping them around his audios. Mechs that had been checked out shouted "Oy", and the last mech that needed checking shook his servos above his helm. The Jump Master nodded and rested a servo over his spark in a motion that meant to wait for his signal. He then stuck his helm out of the open door in the plane for six long kliks. The mech knew it was only a matter of time before-_

Optimus stopped typing. He bounced lightly in his chair, his systems on fire. He knew he should not wait this long without service, but he needed to write down...something. He rubbed his cold servos and blew on them lightly, then reached for a disc of Energon that had been molded into shape days before. He held it between his denta and crunched down as he read what he had written, the Energon disc still between his lips even as his denta worked. His servos went back to typing, but it didn't last long. His interface panel slid open and his spike sprang free for the fourth time that day, his valve weeping for attention as well. He wrapped his servo around it and gave a long, squeezing pull as he thought.

The mech was fictional, the events real. He knew that some day, the war would be over, and after Cybertron came back to life and received a new generation, they would be wondering about the war, and it was his duty to record it. And in doing so, he couldn't resist a little fun by throwing in a fictional character. He hummed as he moved his servo faster. Of course, he thought, it would be easier if his heat cycle hadn't gotten in the way. He should have more, but two hours of hard work interrupted by an hour of self-servicing was working against him in his efforts. He contemplated cursing.

Instead, he looked at the door when the knob squeaked. He had shut the door for privacy, but had wrongly assumed that his team would respect this shut door and knock upon it for entry if it was an emergency. All he could do was freeze and blush deep red as Arcee walked in.

"Optimus, I have the reports from my patro-" Her optics went from his optics to his busy servo and her mouth dropped the rest of the way open. "Whoa."

"Knock first," he growled a little. His optics dimmed in humiliation as the femme drew closer.

"You're in heat? Why didn't you tell anyone? Optimus..."

"Please leave."

Her optics were drawn to his desktop and she read what he had written, despite his request. "A story? Looks good. You need to finish it, Optimus. It needs to get done, and so you can have another free servo to type..." Her optics dropped to his spike. It twitched in his servo. He gulped.

Reports forgotten, Arcee settled herself under his desk, pulling his chair in so that he was working almost comfortably at his computer. Her little servos wrapped around his length and pulled. He gasped and struggled a little.

"Arcee, please..."

"Optimus. You have work to do. You can't let this get in the way." And before Optimus could protest, her mouth was around his tip, sucking lightly.

He threw his helm back and spread his legs further. He whimpered and gripped his desk during the first few moments, but gradually, her suckings took the edge off of his heat and he began typing again with shaking servos. His spike throbbed and his valve swelled. Arcee's digits played with his folds and rubbed circles around his exterior sensor. He begged through murmurs and mumbles, his digits slowly curling into fists.

Arcee pulled away from his spike to suck instead at his valve, jerking his hips closer to her with surprising strength. Optimus gasped and wrapped a servo around his spike, pumping it lightly as he watched her work at his valve. This was not how his day was supposed to go at all...

His valve clenched around her digits that pumped in and out of his valve, making the femme swat his thigh each time she felt his calipers ripple and try to grasp her digits to hold them still. "No," she'd scold and she would go back to sucking at his swollen sensor. He couldn't stop clenching, and she didn't stop scolding him.

His spike released ropes of sticky fluid onto his stomach and he knew his valve had done relatively the same thing when Arcee's insistent licking turned into greedy slurps. Optimus settled in his chair as Arcee got up and smiled at him.

"So, please take time to file my reports. And do keep writing. I like the story."

Optimus watched her departure with dimmed optics, a mix of shame and relief fluttering around in them. He closed his optics and sighed, letting his helm fall back. He laid like that for several moments before he lifted his helm and set his servos back to working.

_The Jump Master gave the cue to jump, and one after the other, mechs and femmes alike began to run, handing off yellow ropes that would get ripped from their parachute bags, setting off the timer inside. The mech passed his rope off to the Jump Master, who nodded and gave him a high-five and an aft-swat to get him moving faster and to let him know he was good to go. The mech threw himself into the arms of gravity, feeling the rope connected to his pack release and he began counting to six thousand, as he was always instructed. The grey plates of Cybertron below him were blurry as the air tossed him this way and that, but never quite out of alignment. Below him, but not directly below, were his teammates, all of their parachutes deployed._

_Before he had even reached four hundred, the parachute deployed and the mech was jerked. He stopped falling and began to glide down, stable and relatively still. His servos curled around the toggles and he adjusted his aim to the dropzone where the Land Master was waiting, waving a red flag to mark his position. Three mechs had already made is safely._

_The mech, once close enough, started unbuckling his gear, watching it fall to the ground. When the last piece fell off him, he cut the lines of his parachute and rolled, coming to a stop at the Land Master, who was grinning audio to audio._

_"Welcome back to solid ground, Pax."_

_"Anything's better than the air," Pax laughed and he looked up at the sky towards the mechs still coming. The Jump Master was coming down as well, whooping. The mechs still in the air gave nervous laughs as their gear fell._

_"Well, congratulations on your first jump. Get back in line, trooper." The mech jerked his helm towards the line. Pax began to regret agreeing for the elevator jumps, which were just jumps all day and every day. Pax's shoulders fell. The Land Master smirked at his expression. "And don't worry. They get easier as they go along. At the end of the day, you'll be a master."_

_"Oh, I'm not ready to be Jump Master!"_

_The Land Master chuckled and gave his aft a swipe to get him moving before he turned back to the sky and waved his flag even more insistently when nervous laughter turned to whimpers. "Come on, you Seekerlings!"_

_"I'm_ not _a Seeker! I'm not a Seeker!"_

_"Pathetic!"_

` Okay. Fictional character was taking a surprising turn. Optimus pulled his servos away from the keyboard and he frowned. Should he change it? He shrugged a little and went back to typing. No one would notice, and no one would question it. Besides, Optimus reasoned, authors offered pieces of themselves into their works anyway, drawing on past experiences and even throwing themselves in as unnamed characters. He smiled as he typed a little faster. Due to Arcee's insistent ways, his systems were cool and almost at a normal temperature. He knew that he would have double the amount of time to type now.

_The mech waited in line for the craft called Chinook to come back. Dual helicopter blades thumped loudly through the air as it landed and they slowly stilled as the mechs piled on. Pax stopped to touch Chinook's side and the plane gave a shudder as it laughed._

_"How was the first jump, Seekerling?"_

_Seekerlings, Pax remembered, were pathetic bundles of limbs and wings and huge optics. He had no doubt that he and the other jumpers looked relatively like Seekerlings, and complained just as much. They even had a funny-looking waddle like Seekerlings._

_"Could have been better."_

_"Could have been better," the Jump Master mimicked. "Don't be deceived, Chinook. Pax here was born to be a jumper."_

_"Ah. He has a Seeker's soul."_

_Pax couldn't begin to compare himself to the graceful fliers he often saw. There was no way he was a Seeker, in pretend or in his "soul". He was a Seekerling like everyone else._

_"I doubt that," Pax laughed._

Optimus frowned more as he began to tell his own story. He contemplated starting over, but he liked the idea of the fiction story becoming non-fiction. He continued working, not stopping until Arcee came to him again, knocking this time lightly on the door. He looked up as it opened.

"Hey. Just coming to check on you," she purred. "Hope I'm not bothering you. I really am sorry for disturbing you. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," he said with a nod. His servos hovered over the keys, waiting for her to leave. It felt wrong to continue typing with her there.

"I'll check on you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

As soon as the door shut, there was typing on the keys.


	2. Optimus/Bulkhead

_Chinook landed relatively softly, only minorly jolting the mechs inside. Once they all gathered around, he transformed into a towering mech only Omega Supreme could look into the optics of. Pax was jealous. He was the shortest mech around. The Jump Master and the Land Master talked to each other, one growling and the other shaking his helm. They were too closely schemed for Pax to figure out which was which, as the Jump Master grey with orange flecks and the Land Master was grey with red flecks. But both looked disappointed._  
 _They turned to them and Pax found the Jump Master's give-away mark, a dead optic in the right side of his face. It wept slightly, but the other one was cold and hard. "Today's elevator jumps were...not great. They were pretty pathetic, Seekerlings." The Jump Master walked towards the line of mechs. "In fact, we're sending a few of you home!"_  
 _Pax gulped and he lowered his optics. He knew that the last jump was sloppy, but he was so tired..._  
 _"Lief, step forward." The Jump Master watched the sturdy mech that all through the jumps remained waddling with his helm high. "You're safe. Get your aft back in line."_  
 _The mech waddled backwards a few steps back into the line as the next mech was called and sent home. The equipment was taken off him roughly, the Jump Master growling while the Land Master continued the pluckings._  
 _When he got to Pax, the young mech was shaking._  
 _"Pax. Step forward."_  
 _Pax almost fell as he took a waddle forward. His equipment weighed even heavier now that all optics were on him._  
 _"I have some choice words for you."_  
Optimus leaned back into his chair and buried his digits into his valve, working them slowly around his sensors. He tipped his helm back slowly, groaning. Yes, this fictional character of his was becoming him. How could he stop this? Well, he couldn't, not just yet. He had to finish this scene and then he would start changing things. Hopefully. He gasped when he found a sweet sensor and he ran his digit against it again. His legs spasmed and he cycled several intakes at the surge of pleasure. His valve clenched tightly around his digits. His optics dimmed and he gave a rough purr.  
The door was shut again and Arcee had promised to knock before she entered, and he had hoped she would pass on the message, but Ratchet called her to duty, so it would probably be a while before anyone knew to not disturb Optimus. However, the Decepticon's Vehicons St3v3 and D4V3 were causing more than one disturbance and Ratchet had said no Autobot could be spared. Once the medic heard of Optimus' crippling situation, he informed the Prime that he would rather make the bot stay behind than watch the Decepticons take advantage of the situation, which would probably happen. Optimus' digits were doing nothing for him.  
As he thought, he heard a knock and he sighed, hoping that he could speak through the door with the mech or femme Ratchet decided to leave behind. "Who is it?"  
The door opened and Optimus covered his face with a hand as Bulkhead walked in, uninvited. The Prime practically whimpered at the display he was putting on.  
"Oh. Sorry, Optimus." He stepped closer. "Don't let me interrupt. Ratchet told me that you were going to be busy, but...I didn't know how busy."  
The Prime peeked up at the former Wrecker and he gave a low whine. His valve clenched around his digits and he drew them out slowly. He cleaned them on a napkin and sighed. "What do you need?"  
"It's not about me anymore, Optimus. It's about you."  
"Why have you come to my office?" Optimus rephrased the question in the hopes that the mech would actually give him an answer. He needed to get back to self-servicing.  
"Forget about that now." The mech walked over and without hesitation, pushed the Prime over the desk. Papers flew to the floor and pens were scattered after them as Optimus threw his servos out to catch friction to remain upright, but his desk was smooth and he couldn't get a grip on anything but the edge across the one that dug into his abdomen. "Bulkhead."  
"Optimus, you need relief to return back to work."   
"I can do it myself."  
"It's not as effective. I know this. Just relax and this won't hurt."  
"Bulkhead, I-" Optimus was interrupted by a blunt spike head nudging his valve. His optics widened as he fully realized his situation. No longer was he Prime to this mech. He was a plaything. An immobile plaything. One Bulkhead had no trouble using.  
The spike was short, only reaching half way to his ceiling node. However, what the spike lacked in length, it made up for in thickness twice over. Optimus' valve was stretched wide enough that his calipers couldn't close down on his spike, forcing them open and quivering in attempts to close down tight.  
Bulkhead, despite the tightness of the mech, trusted relatively easily and slowly, his servos gripping his leader's hips and jerking him lightly back into his thrusts forward. The Prime could only grip the desk and whimper.  
As Bulkhead continued, Optimus began to write little notes about the story. Fortunately, his situation gave no writer's block, and so he continued. Until writing became impossible. Bulkhead's servos went from holding his hips to holding the entire Prime's lower body, his arms under his knees and tucking the blue and red mech's thighs against his sides. He then snapped his hips faster, jerking the mech back harder and faster, making Optimus neat scrawl into complete and utter jibberish. He dropped his pen and gripped the desk. He bit his lip harder and harder until the green mech behind him overloaded and let the Prime drop to the floor on his knees.  
Optimus rested his helm on the desk, panting softly. His optics were wide and oral lubricant leaked down the side of his face from the corner of his mouth. "Nngh..." He touched his gaping valve and stared at the mech fluid practically pouring out of his slit. His petals were swollen and glistening. He trembled and looked at Bulkhead, who was cleaning himself up and tucking himself away. The mech purred lightly and rubbed Optimus' shoulder.  
"Feel better, boss."  
When the door rested back into the closed position, Optimus settled back into his chair and looked at his story. He began typing again, slowly, then faster as ideas and memories came to him.  
_Pax looked slowly at the mech, his optics dim._  
 _The Land Master broke into a grin. "Scared you, didn't I? You're safe, Seeker. Go back to the line."_  
 _Pax's optics brigthened and widened before he nodded and waddled back. Three more mechs were removed but Pax was safe. Maybe he was jumping material after all! The other mechs congratulated him and patted him on the shoulder and aft. Then they all trooped down to the RecRoom and drank Energon until the Jump and Land Masters broke out the High Grade in celebration._  
 _"You guys have advanced from Seekerlings to Seekers. Next step is to fly like a Predacon."_  
 _One mech began flapping his arms, screaming **FLAPPING** as he did and the others roared in laughter. Pax chuckled into his High Grade_.


	3. Optimus/Bumblebee

It wasn't easy to find, but when he found it, Optimus immediately sat down and fumbled with his panel. Behind it, his valve was throbbing, though yesterday he had been thoroughly fragged by Bulkhead, and the day before that, Arcee had had her fun with him. Now it was this toy's turn.  
It was a bright pink color, with a tip the size of an orange with a texture on it that would tease his ceiling node and coax out an even heavier overload. The rest of it was decorated in short blunt spines that would dig into his flesh and, hopefully, into a few sensors. And Optimus couldn't wait to try it.  
He carried it and a bottle of lube (though he suspected he wouldn't need much) back to his office. He sat down, applied lubricant to the length of the toy, and he pressed it into his valve. He spied a switch and flicked it on, giving a little yelp when the toy began to vibrate inside him, the textured tip finding his ceiling node and assaulting it. The blunt spines worked in circles into his flesh, and yes, three sensors were being stimulated. Optimus overloaded almost immediately, but it did nothing to satisfy his need, so he left the toy inside as he typed.  
_There were femmes on the jump team, but not as many as there first had been. The femmes that left had been damaged by the jumping, breaking ankles and wrists. Mechs seemed to have it worse, as the harshest injury they sported was a broken spine. He was given a new post, away from most of the action. He couldn't walk, but his arms were fine, surprisingly, and he taught mechs and femmes who were injured beyond help. Some were missing whole arms, whole legs, half of their faces. And all of them were looking for meaning._  
 _Pax watched the remaining femmes. The Jump Master was flirting with a few, and Pax had become to realize that the old mech still had some life in him, some "game" the mech had told him about earlier when he had first seen the femmes._  
 _The femmes seemed to be nothing but crumple-zones, especially around their hips and chests. Their thighs also appeared to be crumple-zones. The same mechs that deemed their large chests unnecessary were the ones that drooled when they walked by, crumple-zones jiggling and bouncing around their chests, aft, and thighs._  
His spike hardened and he tugged at it as he leaned back into his chair. He had overloaded three times now, the evidence on the floor, but he didn't feel the edge had been taken off. What he needed was a spike in his valve or a valve stretched around his spike. Either would do, but he knew that he would be submissive rather than dominate due to his heat cycle. What he needed, he thought as he glared down at the toy, was an actual spike. It vibrated noisily in his valve and caused another overload.  
While he stared down at the toy, Bumblebee had taken up residence in the doorway and he stared while his optics cycled in their sockets. It appeared that he took etiquette lessons from Arcee. As he stared, Optimus took the toy out and propped his heels up on his desk, watching the scout with dimmed optics, his valve weeping and dripping onto the floor. Bumblebee moved between his thighs after Optimus lifted a leg to let him by. The scout purred lightly and he exposed his spike. He was tentative where Bulkhead and Arcee were demanding. No words were spoken as Bumblebee rubbed his spike to attention.  
Bumblebee's spike was long and wasn't narrow like Optimus had always thought it was. It wasn't as big as Bulkhead, but it was decent. Biolights flickered down the length and the tip had a pearl of fluid on it before the scout slipped it into Optimus' valve.  
The Prime tipped his helm back. He would be sure to thank each one of his team mates for helping him. He spread his legs further and nodded at Bumblebee, who began thrusting.  
Optimus reached up and cradled Bumblebee's cheek with one servo, the other holding onto the scout's hip just to have something to do. The scout held onto Optimus' own hips, probably just to have them do something as well. Both mechs stared into each other's optics, Bumblebee uncertain and Optimus begging him to take some kind of control.  
Instead, Bumblebee overloaded inside him and withdrew to tuck himself away. He nuzzled his Prime softly, then left he mech, stopping just short of leaving to look over his shoulder at him. Optimus gave a purr. His heat cycle subsided, for now, and the Prime got up to give him a kiss on his mouth piece. Slowly, he took it off after the first kiss, and he pressed several more to the little mech's mouth. The scout gave a shrill sound and his faceplates warmed to a deep red color.  
Yellow and red armoring pressed together as Optimus backed Bumblebee into the wall, shutting the door with his pede. His valve was satisfied, but his spike was still searching for relief, and Optimus intended for it to find it in Bumblebee.  
The scout let the Prime do whatever he wanted, which made Optimus heat up even more. He pressed his hips to Bumblebee's and he purred as he watched his scout writhe. The mech's pedes didn't touch the ground. All his weight was supported by Optimus.  
It was a great idea, Optimus learned as his fat spike slipped into Bumblebee's tight valve, of him to get sound-proof walls. Bumblebee was vocal, making squeaks and clicks with each thrust Optimus made into his valve. He was probably ramming against his ceiling node, and that thought was confirmed when Bumblebee gave wild spasms through his overload before slumping into the Prime. Optimus held his hips and bounced the scout, chasing his own overload. When it came, it filled Bumblebee to an overflow, and Optimus, when he withdrew, watched his fluid seep out of the violated valve and slip down the mech's shiny thighs. Bumblebee's servo came to rest on Optimus' helm as the older mech pressed a kiss to the scout's swollen exterior sensor.  
Bumblebee's thighs quivered as Optimus pressed kiss after kiss around the valve. The scout ended up gripping the helm of his leader when the Prime flicked his glossa against his sensor, signalling what was coming. Optimus devoured his little scout's valve, not hungrily like Arcee. He took his time and made sure that Bumblebee was as satisfied as he was.  
When Bumblebee finally was able to leave, he was trembling and glistening with Optimus' oral lubricant. He walked quickly to the shower racks, leaving Optimus kneeling on the floor, licking his lips.  
He would have to do that again, he reasoned as he got up and sat at his desk. His scout had tasted sweet.  
_But there was one femme, a strange little thing, with a power no one had expected. She could take the form of a glowing orb of light, and could flit in and out of high security places and return to base with plans and codes. Pax fell in love with her, this femme called Emerald. She was a beautiful green color, and before her, Pax hadn't really liked the color green. She was funny, too, and the mechs that hung around her were always laughing. She was the daughter of The Seer, a blind femme who told fortunes and delivered prophecies. No one knew who this femme's sire was, or who would dare mount The Seer. All Pax knew and cared about was the safety of Emerald, who had less of a crumple-zone than the other femmes. She was fragile, but had everyone convinced she was stronger than a Predacon._  
 _Everyone was fooled. Until the day she died._  
Optimus felt tears roll down his face. He knew he should tell more of her story, but would people be interested in her? He remembered the dream he had of her just the other night, and he turned his helm away from the screen. Yes. Someday, her story must be told, from first breath to last breath. Eventually. Optimus turned back to his computer, saved what he had created, and then got up with the wet toy in his servo. He returned it to his box and then he walked to his closet to pull down the box of his belongings from the 'good ol' days' with his jump crew. The first picture he lifted was of Emerald, and he smiled.  
 **Emerald is based off my dream I had last night and I have to share it with someone because it was literally the best fragging dream I ever had about Transformers. I'm gonna do it eventually. Here's a preview. Enjoy.**


	4. Optimus/Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus/Ratchet, rushed finish to get caught up.

_Emerald landed softly beside Pax. It was their first real mission together, and she was ready to go. She unhooked her parachutes and tucked them away. She smiled at Pax and touched his shoulder. "Don't back out on me."_  
 _"You don't back out on me!" Pax laughed and he readied his weapons. In front of them was the Decepticon warehouse, and they knew that because spraypainted as large as possible on the door was their emblem glaring at them. "Think we can still offer a bit of a surprise?"_  
 _"Sure can. Decepticons are dumb," she purred and she stood up to walk._  
 _Before Pax could do the same, the cold barrel of a cannon pressed against the back of his helm and an even colder voice sneered, "But not as dumb as you two appear to be."_  
 _Emerald sighed and dropped her weapon. "We may have underestimated them."_  
 _"WE?!"_  
 _"I. I have underestimated them, Pax." She looked at him and grinned, her bright green optics shining. "But they're severely underestimating us." She turned, and while doing so, kicked out with her pede and knocked the gun out of the mech's servo. She then tackled him. Pax scrambled to his pedes and put the other Decepticon out of commision._  
 _"You know what I've realized?" Emerald knelt by the mechs, taking anything she could and shoving them into her subspace. Pax helped her, finding a bag of Energon goodies. He subspaced them and looked at her. "We're really good at this."_  
 _Pax couldn't help but laugh. "Only you, Em."_  
 _She smiled._  
Optimus stopped typing when there was a knock. "Who is it?"  
"It's Ratchet. Can I come in?"  
Finally, someone with manners! He smiled as he let the mech inside his office and he pulled his servos off the keys. He was actually feeling a little better due to a vibrating strip across his sensor and every so often his hips twitched. The medic pulled up a chair to sit across from the mech and he launched into a discussion. Optimus wasn't concerned about length at the moment. He was still beaming that the mech had knocked and used politeness instead of just assuming the mech wanted company.  
"So I've taken stock of our equipment and I was pleasantly surprised. We have more than enough medical supplies and our Energon stocks are at a surprising high."  
"That's good. We should keep up the good work and send out a patrol to find more Energon."  
"That's what I was thinking. Maybe Bulkhead and Bumblebee? They work well together."  
"Excellent. And I will send Arcee out on her own patrol. She could use the time alone. It must be frustrating to be the only femme."  
"I believe she is getting used to it," Ratchet chuckled and he looked at Optimus' monitor. "What are you writing? Bulkhead mentioned you were writing something. I was hoping to also take a look."  
Optimus turned the monitor around and let Ratchet read, but as he waited, he realized that his cycle was not being satisfied by the vibrating strip. He tapped the plus button on its remote and sighed as the vibrating picked up. He purred a little more.  
Ratchet chuckled as he turned the monitor back around. "Writing about your oldest crew?"  
"Yes. I think it is time."  
"I knew you would get over your demons and realize that it wasn't your fault."  
Optimus grunted lightly and sighed, looking away. "I know it is not, but I could have done something more..."  
"Optimus."  
The Prime lifted his optics slowly.  
"You have to understand that it's not your fault. You couldn't have done anything more than you already did. You know this, don't you?"  
"I do. But I can only wonder..."  
"Don't wonder about the past. Life is in the present, not yesterday."  
Optimus nodded and he rested his digits on the keys, trying to signal to Ratchet that he was done talking to the medic. His valve was clenching around nothing, and not because of the strip. His systems were heating up and soon, he feared Ratchet would be able to smell his desire. The room was only so big and the scent was so strong...  
But Ratchet tipped his helm back and sniffed, his optics narrowing. "Are you in heat?"  
"I-..."  
"Optimus..." He got up and he walked over, lifting the Prime out of the seat. "You should have told me. How long have you been suffering like this?"  
"Ratchet, please," the Prime whimpered as the medic exposed both of their arrays. He didn't like that no one was paying attention to what he wanted. Why couldn't they listen to him?  
"Shh. You need this," he insisted as the medic sat him down on the long spike.  
Optimus' valve immediately clenched around it and he shook. Ratchet commanded the Prime to keep working, and he tried to, but the jolting thrusts into him made his work jerky and he pressed the BACKSPACE button a lot more than he would have normally.  
Before Optimus' overload even thought about coming around, Ratchet spent himself into his valve. The fluid burned in his valve and seeped into his womb. He trembled, hoping that the whole team didn't get him carrying. He hadn't thought of it before now, but it was a real possibility...  
Ratchet slid out of his valve and turned the mech around, pushing him down onto the desk so he laid there, his legs spread as wide as they could go. His kisses spread around his valve and pressed into his clit, making him squeal and squirm. Ratchet was deligent, quick, and made sure Optimus got his overload and three more.  
When the medic left with a final kiss, Optimus was still laying on his desk, not wanting to do much of anything but lay there and collect his breath.  
And that was when Wheeljack decided to let the Prime know he was going to disobey previous orders. Optimus couldn't hide from the smirking mech that walked towards him.  
"Oh, Optimus..."  
The Prime gulped.


	5. Optimus/Wheeljack

Wheeljack had gone solo, almost freelance. Every so often, he'd get a task from Optimus and he'd put it off for several weeks before he accepted it and told Optimus that the mission was complete. Some of them were outrageous. Please locate and destroy a Decepticon mine. Salvage what you can. Till All Are One. -O. That one wasn't too bad, but some were pretty demanding. But the wounds that came with them were disappointing and painful.  
He twisted shrapnel out of his open wound and flicked it onto the floor into the forming pile that had gathered. He had blown up a starship that a few exiled drones were trying to fix up and make fly. Why didn't Optimus ever get his tailpipe burned? He had tried asking Ratchet, but the medic threw him the strangest answer.  
He's been a little preoccupied this week. Please understand.  
Preoccupied with what? Gathering dust? Anyway, Wheeljack was done taking orders from "lapdogs", as Megatron liked to sneer. He was going right to the golden head of the hydra. When he was inside Team Prime's base, he marched right to Optimus' office. He saw Ratchet leave and go towards the MedBay, further ahead, and so he just pushed the door open and walked in. He expected to see Optimus at his desk, working, rusting, becoming a dust monster.  
Instead, Optimus was laid out on his desk, his legs parted and his valve weeping for attention. Oral lubricant and mech fluid dripped to the floor. Wheeljack smirked. "Oh, Optimus..."  
The Prime didn't react as the mech rearranged him, sitting him in his chair and lifting it to the highest setting, which went pretty high. It went so high that the mech couldn't touch the floor with his peds and Wheeljack could slip between his thighs. He parted them, pressing two blunt digits into the weeping opening. It stretched and wept around his digits, slopping onto the chair. And all Optimus did was shift, his optics dim and his helm rolling off to the side to study the wall. Wheeljack made sure that the Prime paid attention to him and not a bland wall.  
The Wrecker leaned forward as he thrusted his digits as deep as he could and wiggled them against sensors. He captured Optimus' mouth in his own and kissed him, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Optimus quivered and sighed, his optics narrowing into slits. His thighs jerked. His glossa poked out. Wheeljack sucked that into his mouth as well. When he was done kissing him, Optimus was panting and leaning back in the chair. His valve was wetter and Wheeljack could slide three digits into the opening. He wiggled them. Optimus jerked.  
"Dirty, filthy mech. You like this, don't you?"  
The Prime hissed. Wheeljack rubbed the sensor under his digit harder, smirking. He had found one of Optimus' best sensors and he wasn't going to ever forget its location. He drove his digits deeper, slipping in a fourth digit. He couldn't believe it could stretch this far! Did all of Team Prime have their share?  
He smirked at that thought and he pulled his servo away. Optimus whimpered and sighed, relaxing. Did he think Wheeljack was done?  
"Oh, my dear friend...we have so much more to do."  
The Prime whimpered.  
 **Throwing this to the wolves because I haven't posted anything new due to me directing all my focus onto a short story for school XD It was awful. I couldn't stop writing. Turned in eleven pages of possible crap. But now I'm back! And I've got a few more stories for y'all, including the end chapter of this which will come (soon). And Then There Was Me is postponed due to lack of creativity, even though it's basically me just killing people. Enjoy Wheeljack's kisses in the meantime.**


	6. Optimus/Team Prime

       Before, Optimus could count on one servo how many partners he had that he had shared intimacy with: a femme he kissed behind the Academy and a mech he serviced with his servos and, when forcefully pinned down on his little berth, with his virgin valve. The pain was brief, the doors opened and the pleasure during and afterwards was intense. He had self-serviced, too, and that felt wonderful for a few moments, all too brief to be fully enjoyed. He had sucked his digits while the digits on the other servo tugged and played with his exterior sensor. That had been wonderful, but again, all too brief. He was hungry for a spike again, but the war had started and any partners he engaged with were immediate targets. He couldn't force anyone into that dangerous position.

       Now? His valve ached, stretched and forced around a fist. Before now, it wouldn't have fit. It would be virgin-tight, except during the last few days he had been in heat and had been pounded by every mech on his team, serviced by his only femme warrior. And now, he was being fisted, an entirely new experience for him, by Wheeljack.

       "How does it feel, boss?" He smirked at the Prime. 

       He was exhausted. Every other thrust of his fist earned a squeak and a moan, his legs trembling and his thighs twitching. He wanted to close his legs, but his ankles were tied to either side of the medberth. He rolled his helm to the side, drool seeping out around the red ball between his teeth, his lips wrapped dryly around it. He moaned. Wheeljack moved his fist a little faster.

       "Atta Prime." He swatted his thigh, purring. He uncurled his fist and stroked the seal of his gestation tank, sloshing lightly already with fluid it didn't know what to do with. Ratchet had a theory that the Prime's tank, after being put through the stress of war, was no longer active and just sat there, hollow and lifeless. Rip him open and it would be as pristine as it had been when he was born, but not now. Now mech fluid would drain out of it, sticky and white with splotches of lavendar.

       Wheeljack, for some odd reason or another, withdrew his fist, leaving his Prime gaping and whimpering. His valve clenched around nothing, and then it squeezed tight when Wheeljack sprayed mist at it. He held a spray bottle and he went around the Prime, spraying his armor so it glistened. Optimus turned his helm and tried to hide, curling his servos into fists when the mist passed his face and left his optics hazy. He shook his helm, blinking to clear the haze. Wheeljack came back around to his valve and pressed the nozzle to it, spraying inside him repeatedly until water and his lubricants dripped out of him onto the floor. Then, in full view of the Prime, Wheeljack sprayed the mist on his spike. He rubbed the water all around his spike, spreading it and the transfluid that had begun to bead on his tip all around its length until the whole spike glistened. Optimus swallowed.

       He set the spray bottle down and rested his servos on his lower legs, sliding them up to his knees. Optimus' optics dimmed and rolled and he cried out when he was penetrated. The spike didn't stretch him like his fist did, and his valve was gaping, sloppy, and truly not at all satisfying Wheeljack. He flicked the Prime's exterior sensor, making him buck and squirm. The Prime stared at him, and then beyond him. The rest of Team Prime gazed hungrily at them, their optics bright.

       Wheeljack thrusted harder, holding the Prime's hips to pin him in place. Optimus tried to protest through the gag, but he couldn't. His pleas were muffled.

       _Don't do this, please. No more,_ he thought. He shook his helm and arched his back. Wheeljack was pounding his ceiling node, making his pedes move to catch traction to push away from the Wrecker. The abusive thrusts were making his optics water, the pleasure too intense. _No more, please..._

       And then Wheeljack overloaded, jamming his spike deeper into him as spurt after spurt filled his gestation tank even more, making a little bump form as his tank expanded to accommodate.

       Optimus was relieved. _At last...no more...everyone has had their fill of me. Everyone is satisfied..._

       But then Arcee stepped up and pressed her mouth to his gaping valve once Wheeljack stepped away, popping out the ball and presenting his dripping spike.

       _No, please..._

       His glossa poked out of the ring as Wheeljack fished around in his mouth before slipping his spike into him. He purred as Optimus weakly tongued his spike. Arcee sucked out Wheeljack's fluid and Optimus' lubricant, smacking her lips when she had finished. She trailed kisses over his thighs next, pressing her own fist into him. Optimus cried out around the spike.

       A gentle touch to his helm made his optics lift. Bumblebee was rubbing him lightly with a warm towel, taking off some of the water that was sprayed on him. He had begun to shiver, and he hadn't even noticed. He leaned into Bumblebee, relaxing and finding pleasure once again. Bumblebee swept the towel everywhere down his body, giving extra care to his pedes and legs, and then he, too, fussed over his lower parts. Only this time, he found his aft port was more satisfying. Wheeljack held Optimus helm as the Prime rocked into his bounds, trying to escape the digits pressing and easing into his aft. He laid still and let it happen once a digit was knuckle-deep. Bumblebee moved it lightly, until it felt like a butterfly's kiss. He closed his optics.

       His valve bare and free, Ratchet saw his opportunity. He laid across Optimus, his spike buried deep inside him. Bulkhead and Wheeljack shared his mouth, thrusting a dozen times or so before switching. It became a game. Who can overload fastest? It was Bulkhead, and then Wheeljack quickly caught up, spilling his transfluid onto Optimus face while he swallowed Bulkhead's large load. Arcee rubbed his expanding tummy once Ratchet drew away.

       His valve was tender now, aching and clenching lightly. Bumblebee saw to that too, rubbing his exterior sensor with the lightest of touches. It brought Optimus gently down off his overload until he squirmed and twitched only slightly, his face spattered with Wheeljack's emissions.

       It seemed forever had passed before Wheeljack released him. His valve was soggy, his belly felt heavy, and his aft? Pleasantly aching. Bumblebee was tender, and the Prime knew he had to reward him somehow.

       But Bumblebee's gifts didn't end there. Once Optimus was safely stretched out on his berth (all traces of his heat cycle vanished and the rest of the team clapping themselves on the back for a job well done), Bumblebee climbed on top of him, rubbing heated wax into his warn and aching body. The scout made sure his leader was free of blemishes and scuffs he might have picked up from the others while he suffered his heat cycle. He kissed Optimus' body, wiped away all thoughts of rape and pain with them. All the Prime thought of when he finally drifted off was how soft the scout's mouth was and how lucky he was that he had one loyal Autobot left.

**As requested. Sorry about my being gone. I'll be sure to continue this. It wasn't all I wanted it to be, but I didn't want to wait for tomorrow to post. So here it is!**


End file.
